“We will be glad to see that happen,” Nolan said.

  A picture appeared above the two robots. “You too, Aurora and Nimbus,” AR said from it. “Our discovery of you marks a turning point in robotic history.”

  “You are welcome,” Aurora said.

  Then the four of them went outside, where the other members of the Quest stood, including Rocker Robot, whose surface was now clean and shiny. It seemed he had been serviced too. His clicks were even, signaling no problems. Vinia was wearing a cute new dress, and Gent a handsome new suit. They had evidently enjoyed the Fusion hospitality.

  “May we?” AR asked as they were about to part.

  Nolan shared a quick glance with Apoca. Then they each accepted their robot double’s parting embrace and kiss.

  It was time to move on.

  Chapter 10

  Coven-19

  Back at the nexus they considered paths. Apoca’s batoness was glowing, which meant that a new chapter was starting, and she was the protagonist. She hoped her chapter wasn’t as nervous as parts of the last one had been. Fortunately being the protagonist did not mean she was required to make all the key decisions. She was happy to leave that to Nolan. For now.

  Or was it going to be that easy? The batoness was hovering close, as if concerned about something. It was not safe to ignore her concern, whatever it was. “Talk with me privately,” Apoca said. “What is agitating you?”

  The speech balloon appeared. “I have a sense when my protagonist is about to enter a more dramatic story. There is a portent of danger and opportunity. Tread carefully. Protagonists are not guaranteed successful outcomes.”

  Fair warning, indeed! “I will tread carefully,” Apoca agreed.

  The next path was nicely manicured and girt with pretty flowers. There was even soft music in the background. A handsome man appeared, looking her way invitingly.

  Apoca glanced at Vinia, who shook her head violently no. At the same time Rocker Robot sounded two emphatic clicks. This was definitely the wrong one to take. It was already time to tread carefully. But was this the extent of it?

  “No,” the batoness printed. “This is a several-decision crisis.”

  “Emperor Fusion didn’t know we had warnings of our own,” Nolan murmured. “But his point was well taken. We don’t want madness, however appealing the access may seem.”

  A nymph appeared, bearing a dish piled with chocolate cake and vanilla eye scream. “Bleep,” Vinia muttered. “The spooks are playing to my weakness.”

  A stunningly manly ghost formed, making gestures of holding and kissing. “And mine,” Ghorgeous said from a momentary cloud. “I’d give my all to suffer the romantic attention of a truly virile man. But this is not real, even in ghostly terms.” She returned to the robot.

  An image of a lovely valley appeared, replete with standing firewood, firebirds, firedogs, firemen, and a blazing firestorm in the background. Nimbus relayed Aurora’s reaction. “And mine.” Naturally the fire ant longed for a setting like that for her nest to occupy.

  “But it is madness,” Apoca said firmly.

  “Madness may offer potent temptations,” Nimbus said.

  The path beyond was lined with egregious puns, like a man whose toes were little rockets. “Missile-toes,” Gent murmured. Stones in the form of keys. “Rocky.” A bear wearing a fancy band on one toe. “Bearing.” A male deer without clothing. “Buck naked.”

  Apoca quailed at the very thought of returning to the pundemic zone. A bird appeared at her feet and took flight. A quail, of course.

  The next path had a sign: witches best? But Gent was silent. Which meant it was not a pun for “Which is best?” Which meant in turn that this one led to witches. Almost as bad.

  Nolan turned to her. “I think I’d rather face witches than more egregious puns.”

  “Me too. But if the plaque is negative, it will have to be the pundemic again.”

  He looked at Rocker. “How are chances among the witches?”

  The robot clicked thrice. It didn’t know. Apoca realized that it figured that the paths were resistive to useful details, except for the one for madness.

  “Oh, well, not all witches are old and ugly.”

  She shot him a dark glance, in part because she was not completely sure he was joking. Had he had a witch among his bygone girlfriends? She did not care to ask.

  They set off along the path. Soon a branch led to a section labeled coven-1. It actually looked reasonably attractive, with a neatly trimmed hedge and a field where cute kittens played. Vinia’s green indicated that was not where they should go. The kittens might be slated to become familiars. That was fine for witches, but not so much for travelers.

  “Unless you count bugs as familiars,” Nimbus said.

  “We count you as friends.”

  The next branch led to a far spookier landscape, labeled coven-2, with a haunted house in sight. That was not the one either. “Fake,” Ghorgeous said after investigating. “No real ghosts there. Maybe it’s a trap ghostwriters use.”

  Apoca wasn’t sure what danger there could be for unwary ghosts, and decided not to ask. Probably they would simply be forced to write spooky scenes so the writers could take time off.

  The third branch, labeled coven-3. looked diabolical, with statues of horned, tailed demons doing nasty things to innocent people. The figures were so realistic that they seemed ready to come to life at any point, screaming. That was not green either, to Apoca’s relief. She feared that the demons were real, lurking for foolish folk to come close enough to grab and torture. She suspected that demons, like mortal folk, came in a wide variety of types, and it was best to stay clear if possible. And what about Demons, one of whom they were seeking? Was their whole Quest a mistake?

  The fourth one looked nice at first, with a calm lake. But when Nolan threw a stone into it, a lake monster shot its ugly head up and snapped it out of the air. Only to spit it out a moment later, disgusted, sending a glare Nolan’s way; it was a rotten piece of gravestone. This one, too, was not right.

  The branch-offs continued, none of them appealing, though of course that was not the point. Where was the plaque?

  The main path terminated beside an inlet of the sea, where there was a temporary shelter marked coven-19. Several witches were there building a fire for their huge cauldron. They wore the standard black cloaks and pointed hats but appeared normal otherwise.

  This was their destination, on this path, unless they needed to strike out into the wilderness. Vinia’s green indicated that this was indeed the place. Rocker’s clicking was routine. The bugs were picking up no hostility. The batoness had no further input. So what was the sinister portent? This did not seem like much danger or opportunity. There wasn’t even any ominous background music.

  The witches ignored them, busy with their own tasks. Each wore an ID tag bearing a number, one through thirteen. Apoca knew that the higher the number was, the greater the seniority within the coven; she had encountered occasional witches before. As a general rule they minded their own business unless accosted, and their specialty brews, like love potions, could be useful.

  Well, time to tackle the witch by the broomstick, as it were. Individual witches could be nice or nasty. It was best to assume nice, until corrected. Apoca girded herself and approached the senior witch, Witch Thirteen, while the others waited close behind, just in case things got complicated. The old witch was standing beside the bubbling cauldron, directing younger witches as they added ingredients like baboon blood, eye of newt, and tongue of dog. The main item was a slowly cooking fatted prig, probably slated for the evening meal.

  “Pardon me, please,” Apoca said to Thirteen. “I am Apoca from the Queendom of Thanx. I have a question.”

  “Thanx!” young and pretty Two exclaimed before being reproved by a Senior Glance. So it seemed that word of the new feminist establishment was spreading.

  “A greeting, Apoca,” Thirteen said evenly. “Our complement is complete. You will have to seek some other coven to join. Not that you’d want to join this one.”

  This was interesting on one and a half grounds. Normal women were becoming witches and joining covens? And what was wrong with this one?

  “We are the last coven to form in this territory,” Thirteen said, knowing what question was coming. “We got the site none of the others wanted, because of its history. It is isolated, its house is haunted, it is subject to lout raids, and it requires an annual sacrifice of a tender maiden. In addition, no warlock will join us or even visit us because we are feminists.”

  Feminist witches. Interesting indeed! Naturally they would be aware of the queendom. A haunted house hardly mattered; Ghorgeous could readily check that out. Lout raids? One Lips kiss would level a lout. But maiden sacrifices? Warlock exclusion? The challenging nature of this excursion was coming into view. “We are just traveling through, not intending to join any coven. We are looking for a special plaque that says here or not here. Nothing else. Have you seen it?”

  “No, but I know where it would be. Where everything of any interest to anyone is: the haunted house.”

  “Then may we check that house? Once we find it we’ll be on our way and won’t bother you anymore.”

  Thirteen shook her head. “You’d be welcome, as far as we’re concerned. The ghosts are not a threat. They are the spirits of the maidens sacrificed over the years. But you can’t get there. It’s on a little island in an inlet of the sea. Loan sharks patrol it. We can cross over on our brooms, once we decide to tackle it, but unless you can fly, or back off the sharks, you’re out.”

  Apoca thought of Nolan. He could handle a loan shark, and since they normally attacked one at a time, he could intimidate them all in turn. But that reminded her of the other water challenge. The maiden sacrifice. “What is this annual event?”

  Thirteen paused half a witchly moment. “You really are interested?”

  “Yes. We don’t much like sacrifices of people.”

  “Then be our guests tonight, you and your troupe, and we will acquaint you with the whole story.”

  Apoca was surprised. “You invite passing strangers into your abode? Male, female, and robot? Is that safe?”

  “One member of our coven suffers premonitions. She said that visitors were coming who could solve all our problems. I am cautious, because though there is always substance to her visions, their proper interpretation can be devious. But I have a certain feel for character, and you strike me as worthwhile. Your reference to Thanx helps. Perhaps you are merely passing travelers, but there is an even chance that you are the party of the premonition, and if that is true, it is more than worth the gamble.”

  “She is serious,” Nimbus said.

  Apoca glanced at Vinia. The girl nodded; this course was green. Rocker’s clicks were even. The bugs were not alarmed. Even Gent, who suffered the curse of a witch, did not seem wary of these ones. Maybe he was distracted by pretty Two, who was shyly smiling at him. The absence of a warlock might be making outsiders look good to her.

  “Then we accept your offer. We will acquaint you with our people and mission, to the extent that interests you, and you will inform us about your situation. If it turns out that we can do each other some good, so much the better.”

  Ghorgeous went off to check the island house and ghosts, while the others chatted with the witches as they worked on their several routine tasks. One was good with children, and Vinia liked her. One was scholarly, compiling a spot history of crossbreeds, and Nolan was glad to update her on his naga and mer ancestry. Another specialized in machines; she found Rocker very interesting, and he seemed to like the attention. Apoca observed a carpenter witch constructing a wharf intended for fishing. Her talent was to join wood together magically so that she needed no hammer or nails. Another witch was practicing her illusion, trying to imitate the wood planking, though of course it could not be walked on. She was one of the younger ones, pretty but not yet broadly skilled. The other witches had other specialties. They called it a coven, but it was really a small cooperative community.

  “I never thought about joining a coven,” Vinia said. “But I can see it wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing.”

  “People are people, whatever their association,” Apoca said. “It’s generally better to get to know them before making a judgment.”

  Ghorgeous returned. “Those are all nice ghosts,” she reported. “They showed me where the plaque is hidden in the attic. It says not here.”

  “So now we know,” Apoca said, relieved. “But we’re still going to help this coven.”

  “Of course.” The ghost faded out.

  Thus it was that Apoca and the other members of the Quest found themselves eating what turned out to be truly delicious gruel and crockery cakes, in the close company of the full coven of witches. The women formally introduced themselves in ascending order, from the youngest and fairest to the oldest and ugliest, all of them friendly. Then the members of the Quest did the same, including the bugs, Ghorgeous Ghost, and Rocker Robot, omitting only the two batons, as they were imaginary. Nolan explained their mission to contact the Dwarf Demon of Talents and try to get him to resume doing his job.

  “This is important,” Thirteen said. “We hope to have children in this coven, in due course, and do not want them limited to mud pies. We will help you if we can.”

  Then she clarified the dire situation of Coven-19, which felt like being stricken with a bad-tempered plague. The worst of it was the sea monster who visited each year and required a succulent young maiden for his meal. When he ate her, he guaranteed the safety of the island for the coming year, as not even the loan sharks dared cross him. Which related to the witches’ temporary shed. They weren’t quite sure they wanted to make the sacrifice to attain the house on the island. Witch One, being the youngest, had volunteered for the good of the coven, but not only was she their prettiest girl, she was also their nicest. No one wanted her to die. So they were pondering passing up the island house, with its protection, in favor of the crude shore structure. They could use illusion to at least make it look decent.

  But that would bring other problems. The best foraging was on the island, with fine year-round pie plants and a great old ale barrel tree. Sweet-smelling flowers were everywhere, and the wild herbs were the best. The house was comfortable, with self-fueling fireplaces and magic-mirror windows that could picture any outside view a witch wanted. The ghosts were not bad; as the spirits of witches, they could be good company on lonely nights. The shore dwelling, in contrast, would be uncomfortable and drafty, and the foraging was so-so.

  “The lout raids,” Apoca prompted them.

  Thirteen nodded. “Roving bands of men who somehow obtained light armor that is proof against witchly magic. They raid our supplies, steal our trinkets, and ravish our younger members. The other covens defend themselves with fortifications, prickle burrs, foul smells, and some of their warlocks are warriors. But we have not yet had time to establish effective barriers. There is hardly a stink horn to be found. We shall have to hide, but that may not be effective. We are bound to take losses, and any maidenly innocence any of us may have is at peril. On the island we can avoid that. But that means the sacrifice. It is due tomorrow.”

  Apoca appreciated the grim choice. Ravishment of the younger witches or sacrifice to the sea monster. Too many men regarded witches as fair game. That was only the start of it. A witch’s lot was not a happy one.

  Number Ten, the lookout, glided down on her broom with a grim report. “Louts incoming. They spied activity on the path and figured something was up. Estimated time of arrival within one hour. Less if they hurry. I had to sweep one who tried to grab me.”

  “Sweep?” Apoca asked Nimbus.

  “Their brooms are useful for more than flying,” the nickelpede replied, reading the information from the witch’s mind, which it seemed could be explored from a short distance. Were witchly minds more open than others? Did it matter? “They can deliver a nasty kick when swung against an opponent. They call it—”

  “Sweeping,” Apoca agreed, catching on.

  “The sea monster is also approaching, slightly ahead of schedule.” Ten took off again, to continue her watch. Her short skirt fluttered up as she maneuvered, flashing a shapely thigh, and Apoca saw both men take note. Fair game indeed.

  “Oh, bleep!” Thirteen swore. “We’re not nearly ready. We’ll have to scatter and hide. They’ll probably burn down our shelter when they don’t find us.”

  Apoca glanced at Nolan, whose own glance had been hovering in the vicinity, once the lookout departed, waiting on her. He nodded. So did Vinia. The bugs agreed. The robot issued a single click. All of them approved, knowing her thought.

  “We’ll help you solve your problems,” she said.

  “But our problems are immediate and huge, and we have little to offer in return.”

  “We are not making a deal; we are simply being neighborly. It’s our fault the louts are here, because our arrival alerted them. But you will need to cooperate.”

  Now the glance careened around the witches, almost knocking some hats askew. “We will,” Thirteen said guardedly. She had surely picked up on the men’s reactions to the younger members of their coven; women did. Cooperation could be euphemistic for suffering male attentions.

  Apoca went into organization mode. She was a queen; she had managed campaigns before. Especially against obnoxious males. “First we need to get you girls to the island, where you will be safe.”

  “But the sacrifice!” Thirteen wailed.

  “We will handle the sea monster. None of you will get eaten. Or ravished.”

  The witches plainly were uncertain about this reassurance but had little choice at the moment. They fetched their brooms.